to have me in the house. But we best be movin’,” says he, coolly dhropping his bags of tools intil the cart, “for the night’s at hand, an’ a black an’ stormy one it’ll be,” says Bill.
He put a foot onto the wheel of the cart. As he did so Darby, growin’ very red in the face, pressed a shilling into the tinker’s hand. “Go into Mrs. Kilcannon’s for the night, Wullum,” he says, “an’ come to us for your breakwus, an’ your dinner an’ maybe your supper, me good fellow,” says he.
But the deef man only pocketed the shillin’ an’ clambered up onto the sate beside Darby. “Faith, the shillin’s welcome,” he says; “but I’d go to such a commodious house as yours any time, Darby O’Gill, without a fardin’s pay,” says he, pattin’ Darby kindly on the back. But Darby’s jaw was hangin’ for the loss of the shillin’ right on top of the unwelcome wisitor.
“We’d betther hurry on,” says the tinker, lighting his pipe; “for afther sundown who knows what’ll catch up with us on the road,” says he.
Sure, there was nothing for it but to make the best of a bad bargain, an’ the two went on together, Darby gloomy an’ vexed an’ the deef man solemn but
